


Show Me My Silver Lining

by ScarfyTheShipster



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Gen, General, M/M, something of a character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarfyTheShipster/pseuds/ScarfyTheShipster
Summary: EDIT: At first not all of the text posted except for the last few paragraphs, it's been fixed!A silver lining is a reference to the English idiom, "every cloud has a silver lining". It means that every dreary, terrible, downright awful situation must have even a tiny benefit or positive angle to it. It's the sort of idiom an optimist like Phil would use often, or in this case, a futile, weak hope that after losing his home, business, three orphans he'd wanted to care for, his partner, and almost had his body split like a tree trunk by a giant saw, Charles would find some amount of happiness again.





	

A silver lining is a reference to the English idiom, "every cloud has a silver lining". It means that every dreary, terrible, downright awful situation must have even a tiny benefit or positive angle to it. It's the sort of idiom an optimist like Phil would use often, or in this case, a futile, weak hope that after losing his home, business, three orphans he'd wanted to care for, his partner, and almost had his body split like a tree trunk by a giant saw, Charles would find some amount of happiness again. 

Perhaps it would only be a tiny, thin, silver lining to the mass of clouds he had.

Charles slowly made his way through the thick forest, the cut on his foot making him limp, but not so painful he had to stop. He only had a vague idea where he was going. Sir had simply left, or rather, fled. There hadn't been time for him to get Charles with an enraged mob of workers swarming the mill, shouting about things like "rights", "proper meals", "real wages", and "for heaven's sake, better brands of gum exist, you know!".

In all the time Sir had run the mill the dismal way he had, Charles had told him all of those things. Of course, with their entire staff being hopelessly hypnotized, Charles' points about their workers' welfare had fallen apart.

Morale had been fantastic when mindless thralls worked for them.

The vast majority of the time, Charles was simply brushed off. The few times he spoke up it amounted to nothing. Sir was stubborn, Charles bending. Unfair? Yes. Functional? Technically yes. 

"Where would he go?" wondered Charles aloud. Sir would want a nice town, somewhere where he could buy a bit of luxury. Somewhere within walking distance.

He hoped. 

Charles made it out of the woods, physically, but not metaphorically. He wandered town to town, unsure of what he was really looking for. Everything was banking on Charles simply knowing where Sir was when he found it. 

He didn't have hardly anything with him in his suitcase and he slept in a rather cheap, rather drafty motel. His warm bed, his warm fire, and his warm, rather smoky partner floated in his mind as he dreamed of what he'd had to call home.

Smoke.

"Ah!" Charles bolted upright. Sir smoked so much Charles used to swear he always exhaled smoke whether he had a cigar or not. Wherever he was, he'd be buying cigars. 

Meek, rather shy Charles asked around at several smoke shops and pubs, asking if anyone had seen someone like Sir. 

"Yeah, a smoke cloud with an off white suit?" drawled the owner over the counter of the seventh bar Charles had visited.

"Yes!" Charles couldn't hide his excitement. "Yes, has he been here?"

"Been here?" repeated the owner. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the back of the building. "He's /still/ here." 

Charles beamed. "Why, thank you so much!" He let himself into the real customer area, between tables and stools, looking for Sir in the haze of smoke and low table lamps. He followed the scent of the strongest, most appalling cigars to their source. "Sir!"

"Took you long enough," grumbled Sir with about as much venom as The Incredibly Deadly Viper. So Sir was happy to see him.

Charles settled next to him in their own personal fume cloud in their corner. They appeared as business partners, or mere friends. Neither looked as though they dearly missed the other, or that miles and days of travel through bleak towns and thick forest had separated them. Neither ran to the other for an embrace, or excitedly kissed the other on the cheek, gushing about how he'd missed his lover. 

No matter how much Charles wanted to.

"I didn't know exactly where you'd go, or how far," pointed out Charles. "Didn't you know I'd search for you, no matter what?" he asked softly.

Sir nodded and leaned forward, a pensive expression on his face. "My question is, didn't you know I'd wait for you, no matter what?"

His heart thumped slightly too hard. Charles often felt invisible around Sir while he based his entire day around Sir. At that moment, he was startled Sir had noticed how upset he was. "I- I had hoped you would."

Sir's brows furrowed together as he puffed out smoke. "You think I'm selfish, don't you?"

The definition of selfish is as follows: concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself, or seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others. 

Charles habitually scrambled to disagree. "No! Of course not, no. But sometimes you're concerned excessively or exclusively with yourself, or seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others."

Sir huffed with laughter. "You're too kind, Charles. After running the mill the way I did, selfish is the tip of the iceberg. I've begun to think that maybe, just maybe, not paying my employees, only feeding them once or twice a day, expecting nonstop hard work, and forcing homeless orphaned children to operate heavy machinery and work to the point of exhaustion makes me a less than satisfactory employer. It's bad form, is what it is."

"That's- yes," agreed Charles honestly. "I regret almost every decision made concerning our orphans. Our employees. I wish we could've adopted them," he added with a sigh.

"What, the whole mill?!"

"No! The children!" 

Sir straightened his jacket and stood up. "It seems my seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others has given the other side a win. However, they must be defeated! I'm ready to join again, in the most cost effective way possible."

Charles straightened up. A mix of dread and joy he could only describe as love rose inside of him, making his head swim. "You sound more like the man I knew who wrote the book about the heroics and history of our- group- than I've seen in years."

When the split in the Volunteer Fire Department occurred, Sir was technically on the good side. He just hadn't felt much like acting on it. Effort. Financial expense. Accountability. What good Sir had done in presenting an accurate history of Paltryville and the Baudelaire family heroics had been erased.

"The only thing I hate more than not taking advantage of free labor is losing. We lost the mill, the library, my hat collection, and everything in between!" Sir declared. To be fair, just about everything he said sounded like a declaration, but Charles was used to it. "Come on, I'll let you buy something to cook for dinner and do all my chores. Room service is terrible compared to you."

A question many people have asked is why Charles would ever want to be a partner to someone so undeserving of his love. What many people fail to realize, however, is that Charles had never weighed his love on it being deserved or not. Like being too close to a very large picture, he couldn't see what others saw, that Sir was as lousy a partner as Lousy Lane was lousy, that their relationship sometimes felt like being nasally assaulted by pungent horseradish and sickeningly sour apples. "It's complicated," was the easiest way to explain his never ending loyalty.

But, I cannot fault Charles for being too good, too loyal, too understanding and excusing to a fatal flaw. We cannot pick and chose every trait of those we love, simply who we love as a whole.

For example, I wish my dear Beatrice had not written me a novel as to why she couldn't marry me, and even more importantly, not tragically died. Despite the years of grief stricken sobbing at night, she remains the sole love of my life. 

Just as Charles must on occasion wished Sir be less selfish and listen more, Sir had his love, deserving or not.

Charles bought groceries for dinner wish Sir trailing in his wake, occasionally commenting about what he wanted. It wouldn't be the first time Charles had been assumed by the public to be Sir's butler or personal chef, and it wouldn't be the last. 

"Let's have French toast," suggested Sir.

"Not omelettes?" Charles turned to Sir while putting a carton of eggs in his basket. 

"Well... omelettes too," relented Sir. "Mushrooms and peppers and meat and, whatever."

"Savory omelette with sweet toast. Perfect." 

The first thing Charles found in their hotel kitchenette unit was a depressing frying pan in the sink with charred... something at the bottom. "Um, what happened here?"

"I haven't had anything but takeout since we were apart," admitted Sir. "Cooking's, ah, not as easy as you make it look." 

Charles scoured the pan clean and fought a smile. "I make it look easy?"

"Yes, you're an excellent cook." Sir hovered as Charles sautéed his onions, ham, mushrooms, peppers, and asparagus.

It Charles didn't like preparing food as much as he did, it would've been a chore to be Sir's partner. As it was, he glowed with pride at the praise as he expertly made food exactly how Sir liked it. "I know that without the mill, things are going to be difficult. I'm sorry. You don't have anything now."

Nothing that had happened was remotely Charles's fault, yet he apologized. 

Sir didn't change from his selfish ways, not much, anyway. Charles still provided him with pressed clothes, homemade meals, and adoring devotion Sir rarely reflected. In a world where things often literally went up in smoke, where children far too young already learned you couldn't rely on anyone but yourself, there were a couple silver linings, a few times life did seem alright.

"That's not right," corrected Sir, wrapping his arm around Charles's waist and giving his pleasantly surprised partner a kiss.

"I have you, Charles."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> EDIT: At first not all of the text posted except for the last few paragraphs, it's been fixed!!!!!!!!


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